Sorely Mistaken

"I love your poems"

I can't help roaring with laughter

What poems?

Why sir, I've never written a poem in my life

But I've bled, I've shed

Died a thousand deaths on paper, if that is what you mean

If you were truly paying attention

You'd know there are no poems

But a single piece, told
in fragments 

And expressed in different ways,

Often times in wild shriek

Or a whisper, timid and meek. 

So you see, there's no room here for poetry